Children of the Dawn

They agreed to go their separate ways for the day. Darius headed toward the smithy to handle party equipment repairs. Finn ambled off whistling a tune, likely toward the entertainment district. Lyra and Eirik walked together toward the market square, which lay beyond the main road.

The market was lively at midday. Merchants hawked goods from stalls, everything from fresh produce and smoked meats to basic alchemical potions and second-hand weapons. Eirik and Lyra strolled past a fruit vendor where Lyra purchased a handful of small red berries. She offered one to Eirik. "Try this, a sunsweet berry. Good for replenishing energy."

He popped it into his mouth. It was tart and sweet, juices waking him up. "Delicious," he said.

As they moved along, Eirik noticed something that made him pause: a stall where a scruffy man was selling books and scrolls. Among the tattered covers, one title caught his eye, Bestiary of the Abyss: A Guide to Dungeon Creatures.

Lyra followed his gaze. "Interested in some reading?"

Eirik smiled a bit sheepishly. "I think it could be useful. I, uh, realize I have a lot to learn about the creatures in this place." That was an understatement; beyond goblins, he only had vague notions of fragmented memories of this body.

The bookseller grinned a toothless grin. "Fine choice, sir. That'll be five copper for the bestiary."

As Eirik counted out coins, his eyes wandered across the other titles. Another spine caught his attention, A History of the Five Kingdoms of Man. The cover was worn, the gold lettering faded, but the pages within looked intact.

He hesitated, then added, "And this one as well. The history book."

Lyra gave him an approving nod. "A wise choice. Knowing the land's past can help you understand its present. Especially now."

The bookseller rubbed his hands. "An educated adventurer, rare breed these days. That'll be another seven copper, good sir."

Eirik paid without hesitation, tucking both books into his satchel. "I've… got some catching up to do," he admitted with a wry grin.

Lyra smiled warmly. "We all do, in one way or another."

They continued to browse. Eirik bought a sturdy dark green tunic to replace his torn one, and a spare waterskin. As they passed a booth displaying trinkets and charms, Lyra slowed. Her eyes were drawn to a simple leather necklace with a tiny wooden carving of a wolf. She picked it up, smiling softly. "This reminds me of our party's name… Iron Wolves."

The vendor, a kindly old woman, piped up, "That there is a charm for camaraderie and courage. Blessed by a druid, it is."

Lyra looked to Eirik. "Perhaps we could get this for Darius. A token of how we feel, that he keeps us safe like a lead wolf."

Eirik nodded warmly. "That's a great idea."

They pooled a bit of coin to purchase the charm. Lyra beamed, clearly happy. "We'll give it to him tonight at supper, together."

Spending time with Lyra was easy. Eirik found her presence calming. She had a nurturing aura and a quiet strength beneath her gentle manners. He learned that she'd been raised in a temple orphanage and trained as a cleric to help people, which is why she joined the adventurers, to protect the helpless from monsters. It was inspiring and a stark contrast to Finn's profit-driven sass and Darius's duty-bound stoicism. Their party truly was a balance of personalities.

By late afternoon, the errands were done. Eirik had a bit over 9 silver remaining, plenty for now. He parted with Lyra as she headed to evening prayers. Not wanting to return to the tavern just yet (where Finn was likely deep in his cups by now), Eirik wandered the outskirts of town.

Blackstone Outpost backed against a craggy hill on its east side, while to the north lay the endless expanse of the dungeon wilds, forests and canyons known to house various low-to-mid level dungeons. To the west, the road led eventually to bigger cities. Eirik strolled up a path to the top of the eastern hill where an old watchtower ruin stood. From here, he could see beyond the walls.

In the distance, beyond rolling plains, something caught his eye, faint glimmers of light near the horizon, in a line. He squinted; they looked like floating motes or perhaps glowing crystals? The original Eirik's memories surfaced: those were the Dungeon Pillars, enormous magical spires scattered across the realm that marked entrances to deep labyrinths below. At night they often glowed faintly. Each pillar was essentially a gateway to a separate mega-dungeon. Blackstone's economy thrived on the closest ones that low-level adventurers could plunder.

There were also rumors, Eirik recalled, of a great central dungeon, the Tower of Eternum that had been mentioned. Unlike the pillars that delved into the earth, the Tower rose into the sky, and supposedly connected to the heart of the realm's mystery.

Eirik sat on a broken stone, watching the horizon as dusk approached. Two lives' worth of thoughts mingled in his head. This realm was filled with so many unknowns, and he felt both exhilarated and overwhelmed. The power of the runes made him feel he could eventually stand up to its challenges, yet he couldn't shake the fear of losing what he'd gained, these friends, this new chance.

He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the evening breeze. Suddenly, faint crunching footsteps alerted him. Eirik's eyes snapped open and he reached for the axe at his side, thinking perhaps a stray monster had crept up.

"Woah there," came a familiar voice. It was Darius, raising open palms as he stepped into view around the ruined tower wall. "Didn't mean to startle you."

Eirik relaxed, lowering his hand. "Darius. It's alright. I was lost in thought."

The knight approached, still in his partial armor, though he had removed the heavy breastplate and only wore chainmail and a tunic over it. He looked at the same distant lights Eirik had been watching. "I often come up here to think too. Before a big journey, or after one."

He fell quiet, as if considering his next words. Eirik waited respectfully. Darius wasn't a man of many words, so when he spoke at length, it was usually important.

"You fought well yesterday," Darius finally said. "Better than I expected. I may have said that already… but it bears repeating." He turned his gaze to Eirik. "Something changed in you. Not just skill, your eyes. In the heat of battle, I saw a resolve… a fire that wasn't there before."

Eirik felt a prick of anxiety. He wasn't sure how to respond. "I… I realized what's at stake, I suppose. I didn't want to let anyone down, or lose anyone." That was as honest a statement as he could manage without revealing everything.

Darius studied him for a moment, then gave a slow nod. "Fear of loss can harden a man's will. Hold on to that, but don't let it consume you." He stepped closer and placed a firm hand on Eirik's shoulder. "You're like a younger brother to me, Eirik. I need you to know that. I've led this party for five years, and I've seen too many comrades perish by carelessness or despair. But I have a feeling… you might be the one to surpass us all someday."

Eirik's eyes widened in surprise. Coming from the seasoned warrior, that was high praise indeed. Or perhaps a premonition? The weight of Darius's words pressed on him, along with a foreboding sense of why Darius might be saying this now, almost like a farewell. It made Eirik's stomach clench.

"I'll do my best," Eirik managed softly. "I won't waste the chance you've given me, bringing me into your team." Guilt stabbed him in a brief, but sharp pang, knowing he hadn't truly earned that trust originally. He vowed to be worthy of it now.

Darius gave something almost like a smile, rare for him. "Good. That's all I ask." He patted Eirik's shoulder and then moved to lean against the ruin wall, eyes on the horizon once more. "Get some rest tonight. I have a feeling we'll have work soon. The roads aren't getting any safer."

Eirik nodded. Together they watched as the first stars emerged. He felt heartened by Darius's words, and even more determined not to let him down.

Later that night, after supper with Lyra and Finn and a subdued round of drinks at the Gilded Tankard, Eirik found himself alone once more in his room at the inn. He set his pack down by the narrow bed, pulled the two newly purchased books from within,

Bestiary of the Abyss and A History of the Five Kingdoms of Man, and sat beneath the flickering light of a single wall-mounted lamp.

The room was quiet save for the muted hum of conversation drifting up from the common room below. Eirik shifted, propped his back against the wall, and opened the

Bestiary first. Its pages smelled faintly of old parchment and ink. The introduction was simple but chilling:

The Abyss is and is not a place. It breathes like a wound beneath the land, silent, festering, patient. Not merely corruption, but the idea of unraveling made manifest. Where its shadow stretches, life forgets its shape. Sorrow takes root in flesh. And from those hollowed depths, something answers. Not with words, but with will. With forms that should not stand, yet do. Carriers of ruin. Instruments of forgetting.

He read on, the book making a stark distinction between the creatures of this place. Not all monsters hailed from the Abyss. Many, like the goblins he had fought, were believed to be native, having merged with the ecosystem millennia ago and adapted. Others, like ghouls and shadow wraiths, were described as direct instruments of the Abyss, raw corruption given form. The bestiary cautioned that the Abyss's influence often twisted native creatures into far more dangerous, "corrupted" counterparts, making them significantly stronger and more malevolent than their natural kin.

The battle at the goblin warren, he realized, had been but a taste of what this place contained. If those were only the lesser threats, what nightmares lurked in deeper places?

With that sobering thought, he set the Bestiary aside and opened A History of the Five Kingdoms of Man. The preface offered a poetic yet grim reminder:

In the vast tapestry of the known realm, the Five Kingdoms of Man stand as the central pillars of power and conflict. While other ancient peoples hold dominion over their own ancestral lands, from the elves in their hidden glades and the dwarves in their mountain halls, to the giants on their lone island separated from the Velkor Dominion by the sorrowful waters of The Titan's Lament, even some sentient monster clans claim territory in the wild frontiers, it is these five human realms that dominate the continent's political landscape. What lies beyond their maps and charted seas remains a mystery, a realm of legend and speculation.

Eirik read on.

At the heart of it all lies Astoria, the central kingdom founded from the ashes of the fallen High Empire centuries ago. Ruled from the capital city of Silverkeep, a place of towering spires, political intrigue, and the ancient, enigmatic Tower of Eternum, the young King Alaric of House Zefilion strives to maintain a fragile peace between his kingdom's powerful nobles, wealthy merchants, and devout faithful. His rule is bolstered by the continent-spanning authority of the Adventurers' Guild and the Church of the Light, though both of these institutions are vast and harbor their own competing factions.

To the east lies the ever-present threat of the Velkor Dominion, a militant and fractured realm where strength is the only law and honor is forged through conquest. Ruled by competing warlords, the Dominion is a constant danger to Astoria's borders, a threat made more potent by the rise of the Supreme Warlord of Kael'Drak, who seeks to unify the territories under his single, brutal command.

Along the trade-rich coastlines to the south, the Thalethar Confederacy holds power. Here, it is not steel but gold and guile that rule. The Confederacy is governed by powerful merchant-princes, and its courts are rife with whispers of dark dealings and ancient pacts, where spies and assassins are as common as diplomats. Though it is the wealthiest of the kingdoms, its power is built on a foundation of internal fragility.

Across the Emerald Sea, in the far south, is the Iskar Dominion, a land of wonders and horrors ruled by the Council of Nine, a council of powerful mage-lords. In Iskar, magic governs every aspect of life, from law and the economy to warfare. The mages of the Dominion actively seek knowledge that is forbidden elsewhere, a pursuit that has led to tense relations with both Astoria and the Guild.

Finally, to the north, veiled behind the forbidding peaks of the Frostspine Mountains, are the Clans of Varnok. This tribal society of fierce warriors and mystics is bound by ancient oaths and respected for its strength. As keepers of ruins older than any of the Five Kingdoms, they are deeply distrustful of the southern realms, and rumors persist of the great spiritual power wielded by their shamanic circles. Information about Varnok remains scarce, a land and a people deliberately shrouded in mystery.

Eirik sat back, mind spinning with the revelations. He understood the political geography, the five great powers that vied for dominance on this continent. He understood Astoria's place at its heart. But the book, for all its detail, never named the place itself. It spoke of kingdoms and continents, but what was the name of the place that contained them all?

He tried to grasp for a name for this entire reality, a word beyond 'the kingdoms' or 'the continent'. For a fleeting, dizzying instant, a word surfaced in his mind, sharp and clear as a crystal bell. The thought felt immense, foundational. But just as he reached for it, it dissolved like smoke, leaving behind a faint, prickling headache and the strange, unsettling feeling of having forgotten something he had always known.

He shook his head, the unease settling in his gut. His gaze drifted to Erythrael, resting beside him. If the path ahead leads into such depths, he thought grimly, I'll need more than strength. I'll need knowledge, and allies.

With that, he marked the pages and closed the books, eyes lingering a moment on the cover of the history tome. The Tower's silhouette was etched there in faded silver.